Bullies of the Night
by Leo Damascus
Summary: I know the title is corny. You'll see how it's important. A mysterious bully emerges in X-middle school, and reaks havoc on student Chase Kristofer. Only Fillmore can solve this case! Too bad he's on forced vacation... COMPLETE!
1. The Dog who Ate the Homework, part I

And now, Fillmore  
  
Today's Episode: Bullies of the Night  
  
Act 1: The Dog That Ate the Homework  
  
  
  
Fillmore looked at the golf ball carefully, analyzing the bumps on the ball. He planned how he could mold them to the green, and giving the ball a smooth transition to the hole. He decided quickly, and struck the ball cleanly. It ambled across the green half way to the hole, before the wind picked up. The ball curved its path, so it ended half an inch to the right of the hole.  
  
"Snap," said Fillmore with a laugh. "And I was having such a good day, too."  
  
He pulled his cap over his eyes, strolled over to his ball, and prepared to swing again. It was then that his partner, Ingrid Third, found him. She walked up to him, and although he knew she was there, he never looked away from the golf ball.  
  
"Morning Ingrid," he said. "I didn't expect to see you here."  
  
Ingrid nodded. She wasn't in the same position as him. Fillmore had been working overdrive on a recent case for the past couple of days. In fact, he'd been working so hard that Vallejo, the chief of the safety patrol at X Middle School, had forced him to take a vacation after solving the case.  
  
"Vallejo assigned me to guard you," Ingrid explained. "Vacation or not, you're still our best safety patroller. And that reputation has worked up some enemies."  
  
Fillmore hit the golf ball into the hole. Leaning over, he took the golf ball out of the hole and started walking toward the next green.  
  
"What are you doing here today Fillmore?" asked Ingrid.  
  
Fillmore set his golf ball down at the beginning of hole 5. "New kid challenged me to a game of Golf. Claims to be hot. Hasn't shown yet, though, so I started kicking butt in advance."  
  
Fillmore set up his stance so he'd be ready to hit the golf ball. With one swing, he sent it bouncing off banks and missing traps, and directly into the hole.  
  
"Nice shot," said Ingrid.  
  
"Thanks," Fillmore replied.  
  
Just then, Ingrid's walkie-talkie emitted a jumble of static, followed by Vallejo's voice. "Ingrid, we need you back at the office," said Vallejo. "Tell Fillmore to come, too."  
  
"Sounds urgent," said Fillmore.  
  
  
  
They arrived at the office ten minutes later. Vallejo was not immediately visible. "We came as soon as we could," said Ingrid. "What's up?"  
  
"Bully victim came in today," a girl at a desk said. "Vallejo's in the questioning room trying to calm him down."  
  
"Thanks Tehama," said Fillmore. He and Ingrid went into the questioning room, where they found a boy sobbing, and Vallejo patting him on the back.  
  
"It's okay," Vallejo was saying to him. "We can make it so it doesn't count against your grade."  
  
"I worked for five whole hours making this assignment perfect," the boy sobbed into his hands. "It's not the kind of thing you can just blow aside, and have everything be okay!"  
  
"Don't worry," said Vallejo. "We'll look for your stolen homework, and get you an extension until we find it."  
  
"Vallejo," said Fillmore. "Bring me up to speed. I thought we'd cleared out all the bullies."  
  
"We had," Vallejo responded. "Every last person with bullying on their record had been straightened out, or sent to another school. But apparently, with the lack of competition in brawn, someone new has emerged."  
  
The sobbing kid pulled his face out of his hands. He swallowed his tears and spoke.  
  
"He calls himself 'the Dog,'" He said, referring to the bully. "This isn't the first time I've had a run in with him. In fact, I've had a roe with him all year. In the past he'd only done the normal bully thefts: lunch money, baseball caps, those kinds of things. But then he moved on to homework about a month ago, taking math assignments, vocab definitions, science lab reports, etc. He said if I told anyone, he would beat my face in every day from now until graduation. But when he took the creative story that will count for thirty percent of my grade... I..." He returned to his sobbing. Vallejo finished his story. "The new kid found him crying near the golf course, and brought him in. It took us half an hour to get that much out of him. This 'Dog' kid sounds like a tough one."  
  
"Well, that's just the way I like 'em," said Fillmore. "Hard boiled."  
  
"Hold it," said Vallejo. "You're still on vacation. I only called you in so we'd know where to get started."  
  
"Sorry chief," Fillmore responded. "But I'm choosing to end my break a little early. I'll let you know when I've caught this guy."  
  
Fillmore walked out of the room toward his desk, leaving Ingrid, Vallejo, and the sobbing kid. Vallejo sunk his head into his hand, saying, "Ingrid, there's nothing I can do to stop Fillmore. So, I'm going to need you to keep an extra sharp lookout on him. Any signs of him losing his cool, do what you have to. Folsom's been watching us too closely after the art class incident."  
  
"Don't worry," said Ingrid. "I'm on it." Vallejo smiled.  
  
  
  
"His name's Chase Kristofer," Ingrid said about the sobbing boy. "He's a ninth grader, attending school for his final year, he said."  
  
"But he hasn't been in the school paper enough to have enemies," Fillmore said. "This must be some sort of random pick."  
  
"Wait," Ingrid said. She sat down at her computer and started tapping mildly. Fillmore grabbed the hot cocoa that he'd put on his desk earlier, just so he'd have something to hold while watching Ingrid. It didn't take long for her to find what she was looking for. On her monitor, she pulled up an article from a previous issue of the school newspaper. The headline read, "Chase robs former champion of creative writing championship." Fillmore sipped his got cocoa, then read aloud:  
  
"Eighth grader Chase Kristofer took the title for best creative writer this year, just barely beating Bruce Storm: the previous X-middle school champion. 'I can see why he won,' Bruce said in an interview. 'He clearly wrote the better story. But I don't think that will happen next year."  
  
"Crackers," said Ingrid. Fillmore agreed, "Sounds a little close to a threat to me."  
  
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Author's Notes: Hope you all liked my Fillmore story. This is the first time I've done a mystery! I'm trying to do it like an episode, but the acts are too long to do one whole act per chapter, otherwise I'd never get these released. Look for more of act 1 in chapter 2! Anyone wanting to audition for the role of the new kid, review and tell me what you think! Anyone can be chosen, so keep submitting until chapter 2 is up. I'm trying to keep this from being a Fillmore/Ingrid romance fic. Too many of those! But, if that's what you people really want, just tell me and I'll see what I can do. 


	2. The Dog who Ate the Homework, part II

Author's Notes: In order to become the new kid, you must submit the following data to me (quidfieldsjunkyahoo.com): Your name (as you want it to appear in the story; both a full version and short version would be appreciated), a brief description of your personality (so that I can write YOU as a person into the story), and whether you wish to be good or bad (optional, but may be a key factor in whether or not you're chosen). Without this data, I have no way of writing you into my story.  
  
Also, I may have been a bit bad at updating my story. Final exams are closing in, and I am REALLY FRIGGIN' BUSY! I'll update as much as I can. I'm going to attempt to turn it into a F/I romance fic, but don't expect to see any of that anytime soon. It will be discrete. Anyhoo, now that that's out of the way, here's more of my story.  
  
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"What are we doing here?" Ingrid asked. Fillmore didn't stop moving. He kept walking persistently toward the back end of the library. He still answered Ingrid's question, though.  
  
"In the movie viewing room in the back, there is a creative writing club that meets on Thursdays," he said. "Chances are fairly likely that we'll meet Bruce there for questioning. Or, if not, we can at least get some information about his whereabouts."  
  
Fillmore and Ingrid entered the viewing room. Inside were five people sitting around a table, all of which were girls. Each of them stood up when the safety patrollers entered.  
  
"What are you doing here?" the blonde girl at the head of the table demanded. "I don't recall any new members signing up!"  
  
"Relax," said Fillmore. "We just need to know everything you know about Bruce Storm. We figured that this creative writing club..."  
  
"Creative writing FAN club," the girl corrected. "We are a club of people who appreciate the literary illustriousness of the creative writing competition." The girl reached into her book bag and pulled out a large stack of papers, which she set on the table. "We collect and analyze all the stories that have been sent into the competition. Every last symbol, irony, simile, metaphor... you name it, we'll analyze it."  
  
Fillmore walked up to the pile and began to shuffle through them. "Any chance I could get a copy of last year's winner?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know what you'll want to read that for," the girl said in a bitter tone. "The second place story, 'The Rain's Bane' by Bruce Storm, was by far a better story." She pushed Fillmore away from the pile of stories and pulled out Chase Kristofer's story. "Kristofer's story is horrible! I mean, look at this title: 'Bullies of the Night!' Honestly, what self respecting writer would give their story such a pathetic and cliché title?"  
  
A black haired girl in the back stood up. She seemed taken aback. "It's not a bad title!" she screamed. "It's perfect! The word 'night' sets the feel of a looming fear!"  
  
"Forgive her," the blonde haired girl said. "She's the only one here who liked that story. She's been through a lot of bullying, so she's emotionally attached to the subject. It affects her judgment."  
  
"It's fine," said Ingrid. "Can you tell us where Bruce Storm is?"  
  
"It's 4 o'clock, right? He's part of the track and field team, so he'll be practicing there."  
  
"Thanks," said Fillmore. "Can I bring Kristofer's story with me?"  
  
"Sure," said the blonde girl. "We aren't going to need it."  
  
"Then thanks again," said Fillmore, grabbing the story just before leaving with Ingrid.  
  
Bruce Storm crossed the finish line, much faster than anyone else running the 200-meter. He was fast as lightning.  
  
"Whoa," said the coach, looking at Bruce's time. "Nice run, Storm. It's hard to believe that's only a practice run."  
  
"I think I ran a bit too fast today, coach," said Bruce. "I'm feeling a bit tired. I don't think I could run any more today."  
  
"That's okay," said the coach. "We've only got a couple more minutes of practice anyway, and there are a couple of kids who want to talk to you."  
  
"Probably some more of those creative writing fans," Bruce said. "This won't take long. But thanks anyway, coach."  
  
Bruce storm went to the locker room, showered up, and changed. After that he went to meet the kids who wanted to see him: Fillmore and Ingrid.  
  
"How do you do," he said to them. "To what do I owe this meeting? Autographs? Insights to my stories?"  
  
"Not today," said Fillmore. He and Ingrid showed Bruce their badges. "We're safety patrol, and we need to talk to you about a few things."  
  
Bruce dashed between Ingrid and Fillmore, moving too quickly for them to react to him until he was at least ten feet (three meters) away. After that delay in reacting, Ingrid and Fillmore gave chase. They were able to keep at an even speed to him, because he was tired from practice, but they could not catch up with him.  
  
He rounded a corner and disappeared behind the school building. "Ingrid," Fillmore said. "Go around the building and see if you can intercept him. I'll keep chasing him straight on." The two split up, Ingrid rounding just before the corner, and Fillmore just after. He saw Bruce Storm go around a corner again. "Right to Ingrid," Fillmore said to himself. But while he ran on, he tripped over someone's leg. As he pulled his face from the ground, he saw the person who had tripped him, but a hood covered the person's face concealing their identity. Luckily the person forgot to remove their foot as Fillmore fell, and was trapped beneath Fillmore's foot. Fillmore grabbed the person's arm with one hand, and with the other held out his badge.  
  
"X-middle school safety patrol," he said. "You're coming with me."   
  
He pulled off the person's hood. The person who'd tripped him was the blonde girl from the creative writing fan club.  
  
"My name is Victoria Winters," she said. Victoria was in the questioning room, speaking into a tape recorder. Fillmore was the only other person in the room.  
  
"I was just there to try and stop you from getting Bruce in trouble."  
  
"Girl, you led me to him," said Fillmore impatiently. "What made you suddenly change your mind?"  
  
Victoria didn't answer.  
  
"You're trying my patience," said Fillmore with a sneer. "Either you tell me how you connect with Bruce Storm, or things are going to get ugly." Fillmore pounded his fist on the table. "Now, are you going to help me?"  
  
"I realized that he might be in trouble and went to protect him. I'm not 'connected' to him in any way."  
  
Vallejo entered the questioning room. "I'll take it from here Fillmore," he said. He shoved a large doughnut into his mouth and approached Victoria. Fillmore started to leave, but stopped halfway through the door and listened.  
  
"Sorry about the inconvenience," Vallejo said to Victoria. "You're free to go."  
  
"What?!" Fillmore yelled at Vallejo. "How could you just let her go?!"  
  
"Two words Fillmore," Vallejo said between doughnut bites. "Forced vacation. Whether or not you want to accept it, you're still temporarily off duty. Nothing you do until the vacation has ended is done under the safety patrol. Therefore, you aren't allowed to arrest people. Sorry Fillmore, it's for your own good."  
  
Victoria gathered her things and stood up. "You mean I can just go now?"  
  
"That's right, Miss Winters," said Vallejo.  
  
"What about Bruce? Does he get off too?"  
  
"I'm afraid not," said Vallejo. "He was arrested by officer Third, who isn't on vacation. He's staying for questioning."  
  
Victoria ran out of the room, her anger turning her face red. She bumped into Fillmore very hard, enough that it obviously wasn't an accident.  
  
"Fillmore," said Vallejo. "You need to learn to follow orders around here. You can't just make your own rules and expect people to comply."  
  
"Funny," said Fillmore. "I was about to say the same thing." 


	3. As the Time Bomb Ticks, part I

Act 2: As the Time Bomb Ticks  
  
Fillmore rewound the tape. Once it reached the start, Fillmore stopped it himself, rather than let the auto release on the button kick in. He'd listened to the tape enough times that he knew where to stop it.  
  
Fillmore pressed play on the tape player, and heard Ingrid's voice coming from it. "Tell me," she said, "What ties do you have to Chase Kristofer?"  
  
"That name doesn't sound familiar to me," said Bruce Storm. Fillmore yearned to have been the one interviewing Bruce, so he could look in his eyes and tell instantly if he was lying. On a tape, that isn't a luxury you have.  
  
"Why were you fleeing from the safety patrollers who came to question you?" asked Ingrid. Bruce paused for a moment before saying, "I'd rather not tell."  
  
"You have to tell," Ingrid told him, "or we may have to assume the worst scenario."  
  
"And what, pray tell, is that?" Bruce said it without coldness, or sarcasm, or any other form of rudeness. His voice suggested sincere curiosity.  
  
Ingrid responded, "That you have been bullying Chase Kristofer for a month now, and that you have his missing homework assignment somewhere where only you can have access to it."  
  
"That's absurd!" Bruce Storm said. "I would never do that to a fellow student! Why would I?"  
  
"To improve your grades..."  
  
"I have a 4.0 grade average."  
  
"To remove Chase from the creative writing competition."  
  
"You can trust me officer, I didn't do anything! Please let me go!"  
  
Bruce coughed. It was a long cough, lasting about 5 seconds. It piqued Fillmore's interest this time through the tape. He opened a sound enhancement program and recorded the cough into his computer. He then selected a "remove noise" option on the program. It set it to filter at 53 htz, then again at 48 htz. Then, he amplified the sound to twice its normal volume. The result was a very raspy version of Bruce Storm's voice, interrupted by coughing occasionally, saying "... meet Victoria... 't the... cove."  
  
"Disco," said Fillmore.  
  
Just then, Vallejo came up to Fillmore's desk. "Fillmore," he said sternly, "Folsom wants you in her office, now!" Fillmore got up and went directly into the principle's office. She was angry. He'd seen her mad before; she was always mad. This time, though, something seemed different.  
  
"Fillmore," she said slowly. She seemed to be restraining herself from yelling. Usually, though, she would yell as loud as her voice box would allow for any reason she saw fit.  
  
"It has come to my attention that you have been skipping classes," she said through her teeth.  
  
"Yeah, so what?" Fillmore responded.  
  
"That is punishable with expulsion," principle Folsom said. Fillmore could see anger was trying to burst out of her, but she just wouldn't let it come.  
  
"But I'm on safety patrol. I can get out of class if I'm on a case, and I'm on a big one."  
  
Still through grit teeth, principal Folsom said, "No, Fillmore, you're not. Vallejo assigned you to forced vacation."  
  
"Yeah, he did," Fillmore said, "and I unassigned myself."  
  
"Fillmore," said Folsom, still trying to contain herself, "I assigned Vallejo as chief for I reason. I trust his judgment, and believe he will make good decisions. By challenging his judgment, you're showing that you don't trust me." The principle took a deep breath. Much of her tension seemed to leave. "I don't know if I can trust someone who doesn't trust me. Fillmore, if you don't do what Vallejo tells you, you're off the force."  
  
Suddenly Fillmore felt all the tension that was on Folsom enter into him. He said through his teeth, "Yes 'mam."  
  
"Good," the principle said. "Now get to class before I'm forced expel you."  
  
Fillmore slammed the door behind him as he left the principle's office. He stomped over to his desk where his backpack was, and there he found Ingrid, just waiting there.  
  
"Hey," she said. "What's up?"  
  
"I have to get to class," Fillmore said through grit teeth. "If I miss English, I could get expelled."  
  
"You wanna talk about it," Ingrid asked. Fillmore, without even looking at her, said, "No, I don't. See ya."  
  
Ingrid watched as he walked out the door, which he slammed. Vallejo, who had been watching from the corner of the room said, "He's only making this tougher on him."  
  
Ingrid walked over Vallejo. "Why don't you let him work on the case? All of this about forced vacation seems to really be getting to him."  
  
"That's exactly why I can't let him back on," Vallejo said. "That much stress can affect one's judgment, and we can't have our best officer cracking in the middle of the case."  
  
Vallejo went to his desk and rearranged some papers. "Ingrid, I'm putting you with the new kid until Fillmore comes back from the vacation. I hope there's no problems."  
  
Ingrid hadn't met the new kid yet. She was the only one; the rest of the safety patrol had the kid in one or more of their classes. Today was supposed to be the kid's first day as a safety patroller, so Ingrid had never been able to meet him.  
  
"I don't know the new kid. Will we get along?"  
  
"Sure! The new kid is swell. Called the best officer in Z junior high." Ingrid knew that Z junior high was both where the new kid came from, as well as the best-behaved school in the state. It is believed the safety patrol was what made the school so great.  
  
Ingrid blinked. "Wow!" she said.  
  
Footsteps came from the hallway. "Oh good," said Vallejo. "Here comes the new kid now."  
  
The door opened, and in walked Fillmore. "Sorry," he said, still through grit teeth. "I forgot my pencil." He walked over to his desk, grabbed a pencil quickly, and then walked back out. But shortly after his departure, he was replaced by the new kid.   
  
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Author's Notes: Come on people, I need a new kid. To make it easier, all I need is your name and gender. Anything else is strictly optional. I had originally requesed it so I could make the character YOU instead of simply a character bearing your name, but I need a new kid fast, and I've had no entrys. I can only delay his/her coming one more part, but I'd prefer to have a new kid before that! 


	4. As the Time Bomb Ticks, part II

Fillmore sat slumped in his chair. He was trying to hide the fact that he wasn't doing his homework. Instead, he had been reading the copy of "Bullies of the Night" that he'd taken from the creative writing fan club. It was the story of a seventh grade boy being tracked down, robbed of his lunch money every day, and still given a thrashing every day. He envies the bully, because he has so much more strength than him. But then, the bully is involved in a car accident that paralyzes him from the neck down. Through a turn of events, the two become best of friends.  
  
"Mr. Fillmore," said Fillmore's English teacher. "You haven't been paying attention to a word I've said, have you? Can you even name me the indirect object in this sentence?" He slapped his stick on the chalkboard where the sentence, "I handed the dog a bone."  
  
"Dawg," Fillmore said. The Teacher snorted, and then reluctantly continued his lesson.  
  
Fillmore hadn't answered the question, though. He was just surprised that someone at X-middle school could write something so moving. This story had feeling; it was a good read; all in all, it was a good story.  
  
"All right class," said the teacher. "No homework today. Just work on the story that's due at the end of the month." The bell rang, and everyone but Fillmore filed out of the room. Fillmore was still busy reading the story.  
  
"School's over, Mr. Fillmore," the teacher said. "You can go home now."  
  
Fillmore caught himself. "Oh, right," he said, shoving the story into his backpack. "Sorry, I lost track of time reading this."  
  
"What were you reading?" the teacher asked.  
  
"'Bullies of the Night' by Chase Kristofer. It's actually quite good."  
  
"Well, if that's what you were reading, I guess I can understand why you weren't paying attention in class."  
  
"Sorry," said Fillmore, but the teacher shook his head. "Don't be. That story is an embalmment of everything I'll teach you this year. If anything, I should be commending you for reading that." The Teacher leaned back in his chair. "Almost everything Chase has done has been what I'd call mastery. I was the creative writing judge that year, and when I read that story, I instantly fell in love with it. Mind you, that's only ever happened to me once before, and only with Shakespeare's 'Mac Beth.' The kid's got great potential, which is why I'm so disappointed that he hasn't been turning in all his assignments for a week."  
  
"Chase has been experiencing some bully problems," Fillmore explained.  
  
"Oh, you're kidding!" the teacher said. He was completely shocked. "I was giving him zeros on all the assignments he didn't turn in! I feel horrible now. Gee, thanks for telling me; I didn't know."  
  
Fillmore smiled. "No problem. But I got to get going. See ya."  
  
"Hey, you're smiling," said the teacher. "That's a big difference from when you came into my class earlier." Fillmore quickly caught himself and returned to his frown. He left without saying anything else to the teacher.  
  
Almost immediately after he left the English classroom, Fillmore turned on his walkie-talkie. He pushed the button on the side, and said, "Ingrid, this is Fillmore. Do you copy?" He was answered with static. "Ingrid, this is Fillmore, over." Still static.  
  
Fillmore turned his walkie-talkie off, and placed it back in his backpack. Ingrid's walkie-talkie had never been off before. But he needed to tell her about "the cove."   
  
He ran quickly to the safety patrol office. But reaching there, he was greeted only by Danny O'Farrel, a red headed safety patrol.  
  
"Hey Fillmore! How's it goin'?" he asked in his squeaky voice. Fillmore didn't answer, but blurted out, "Where's Ingrid?"  
  
"She's out with the new kid looking for you," O'Farrel said. Fillmore raised an eyebrow. "If she's looking for me," he said, "then why doesn't she have her walkie-talkie on?"  
  
"She does have it on," O'Farrel said, "but Vallejo told us all to switch to channel 5 on the walkie-talkies. I don't know why."  
  
_I do_, Fillmore thought. _He's intent on alienating me from the force for that stupid forced vacation.  
_  
"Thanks," Fillmore said to O'Farrel.  
  
"Anytime."  
  
Fillmore left the office and pulled his walkie-talkie back out. He switched it to channel 5, pushed the button, and said "Ingrid, are you there?"  
  
The walkie-talkie emitted static, followed by, "Hello Fillmore. What's up?" from Ingrid on the other side.  
  
Fillmore pushed the button on his walkie-talkie again. "Ingrid, I was playing with your interrogation with Bruce, and I found out the he said, 'Meet Victoria at the cove.' It was a bit fuzzy, so it's not exactly what he said. Do you have any ideas?"  
  
"There's no coves around X-middle school; the nearest large body of water is 100 miles away," said Ingrid.   
  
"Maybe he's taking about a place called 'the cove' or something like it."  
  
"He might mean the 'Coffee Cove' down on 6th street," Ingrid offered.  
  
"Yeah, maybe. Meet me down there in ten minutes."  
  
"Fillmore, let me and my new partner handle it. Folsom said she'd expel you..."  
  
"Folsom said she'd expel me if I was caught skipping school. There's nothing she can do to me for going to a coffee shop after school hours," Fillmore said. Chase Kristofer attracted his gaze. Chase was running toward Fillmore with a paper in his hand. "Fillmore, over and out," said Fillmore, and then turned the walkie-talkie off.   
  
"Officer Fillmore," Chase yelled, "I've been threatened. Look at this, it was slipped into my locker earlier today?"  
  
Fillmore opened the paper. Written on it, in dark pencil marking, was, "Hey worm, you've gone and made me angry! You shouldn't have gotten safety patrol involved! You have three days to get them off my back, or you'll be in pain!"  
  
Fillmore pocketed the note. "Thanks," he said, "but this doesn't prove anything, I'm afraid. Just let me go now, and your bully will be apprehended."  
  
"Thank you," said Chase Kristofer, as Fillmore ran out the front doors of the school down to 6th street. The Coffee Cove was closing in 15 minutes, and Ingrid was standing at the front door when Fillmore showed up.  
  
"Where's your new partner?" Fillmore asked Ingrid. Ingrid jerked her head in the direction of the coffee shop. "Is your new partner as good as me?"  
  
"We can't worry about that now," said Ingrid. "We've spotted Bruce Storm and Victoria Winters and table 5. But the coffee shop's closing in 15 minutes."  
  
Ingrid and Fillmore went inside. There they found the new kid, crouching behind a decorative fern, located conveniently near table 5. Ingrid and Fillmore joined him.  
  
"How are you today officer?" Fillmore asked.  
  
"Please," Ingrid's partner replied. "Call me Jake."   
  
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Authors Notes: Well, that obviously closes the new kid search. Sorry Teazer, but the new kid just works better as a male. Don't worry though, your character will make an appearance in a future chapter, though. She's going to be very important for the ending. Also people, don't expect me to stop after this story, okay. You'll all get another chance when I write some more to get your name in writing. This story is coming close to the end, so I'm already going to tell you, be on the lookout for my next story. I'll try to do another whole mystery, but I can't make any promises about that.  
  
P.S. To me, all reviews are welcome, no matter how many times you ask me to update. 


	5. A Wrench in the Works, part I

Act 3: A Wrench in the Works  
  
Bruce Storm pulled out a Palm Pilot. He opened up his to do list and checked off "Meet Victoria at Coffee Cove." Then he returned it to the pocket on the side of his pants. Shortly after that, he pulled out a shabby old pen from his backpack, and a piece of paper. His pen raced across the paper, writing word after word after word. Victoria Winters knew that writing genius could not be scheduled, or forced, so she didn't ask him to put them away. Instead, she waited patiently for him to stop, and eventually he did.  
  
"Bruce," she said. Bruce put away his pen and paper. "Why do you always use that pen for writing? I mean, you put away your Palm Pilot and got out a pen and paper. To me, that seems like a little too much of a bother."  
  
"I know, and it probably is," Bruce laughed. "But this pen," he said, pulling out his pen and showing it to her, "was what I wrote my first successful story with. I guess I sort of believe it's a good luck charm. It's the only thing I ever write with. I don't even carry a pencil with me. I must seem really silly."  
  
"Not at all," Victoria said. She smiled at Bruce, and he smiled back. Then, Bruce leant over the table and kissed Victoria.  
  
"So Fillmore, why exactly are we spying on them?" Ingrid asked. "They don't seem to be plotting any kind of mischief."  
  
"Trust me," Fillmore said. "But we do need to approach this differently. Jake, do you think that you could pretend to be one of this guy's fans and go get an autograph?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess so," Jake said. Then, he snuck back out the front door, turned around, and came back in, and walked over to Bruce Storm's table.  
  
"Are you Bruce Storm?" he asked. Bruce nodded. "That's great! I've read all of your stuff! You're a great writer!"  
  
"Thanks," Bruce said. "Which story do you like best?"  
  
"Umm... All of them!" Jake said. "I haven't really picked yet. Say, do you think I could have an autograph? With your talent, it will probably be worth a fortune some day!"  
  
"Sure," Bruce said. "What should I sign?"  
  
"Oh, that's a tough one," said Jake. "I'm afraid I've got nothing for you to sign, or to sign with."  
  
"No problem," said Bruce. "I've got both here."  
  
Bruce pulled out a piece of paper, and picked up his pen. He signed his name quick and handed it to Jake.  
  
"There you go," said Bruce.  
  
"Thanks," Jake responded.  
  
Fillmore handed Tehama the paper that Chase had given him, and the paper Bruce had just signed. Tehama took them and studied them closely.  
  
"Well," asked Fillmore. "What do you think?"  
  
"I'll need to look at this a bit closer," Tehama said. "Come back in about fifteen minutes or so."  
  
"What would you say right now?" Fillmore asked.  
  
"Right now," Tehama said, "I would say that they are the same handwriting. They've got the same left leaning slant, the same loop when writing a 't', the same curl on the 'c'; they're almost photo copies of each other."  
  
"Thanks Tehama," Fillmore said. "That's enough info for me to go take our bully down."  
  
"Fillmore," said Ingrid. "The force needs you. I heard Folsom say she was going to dismiss you if you acted during your vacation again. Please Fillmore, don't do anything stupid."  
  
"She's right, Fillmore," Tehama said. "I haven't even done a proper identification."  
  
"I know enough," said Fillmore. "All I need to do now is find him. Then, I'll just hold him until one of you can arrest him."  
  
After he was done talking, Fillmore walked over to his computer. He opened up the student directory, found the file he was looking for, and opened it. He wrote down an address, and then left the office altogether.  
  
"I hope Fillmore knows what he's doing," Ingrid said concerned. "So far, this looks like the reckless behavior Vallejo was worried about."  
  
"Bad news," said Tehama. "The handwriting samples comparison turned out negative. Bruce Storm is not our Bully."   
  
---------------------------  
  
Author's Notes: Sorry for doing such a short one, people. I'll see how long I can make the next chapter to make up for this. But I need to stop there. You'll see why. Anyway, I'm not going to get into the romance in this story, so I'll do it in my next story, which will be a sequel to this.  
  
One other thing about my next story. It may, at first, seem like some sort of rip off of "From Berlin With Love" by Blackheart Syaoran, because that's the story that inspired it, but trust me, it will not be a rip off. The only similarity will be a German foreign exchange student.  
  
Oh, and MCLesta, thank you for pointing out that lapse in Fillmore's character. You'll notice I've fixed it. 


	6. A Wrench in the Works, part II

Author's Notes: If you're trying to guess who did it, don't read further until you think you are certain. This is the last and final chapter in this story. Look out for my next one, though, which will pick up at the same place this one left off. I haven't picked a title for it yet. I'll add a quick summary as another chapter in this story later. Just be sure it's good.  
  
Thanks to Teazer for submitting the name "Brooke Martin" for the new kid competition. Brooke makes an appearence in this chapter. And those of you still submitting characters, I'll try to work them into my next story. Sorry if I can't do everybody's stuff, but so far it looks promising.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------  
  
Fillmore knocked on the door. A middle-aged woman opened it.  
  
"Hello," she said. "Who might you be?"  
  
"Officer Fillmore of the X Middle School safety patrol, 'mam. I need to speak to your son. May I?"  
  
"Of course," said the woman, then she went back into the house. Fillmore reached into his backpack, and pulled out an audio tape recorder that he was carrying with him. He pushed the record button, and returned the tape recorder to his backpack. A few moments later, Chase Kristofer appeared at the front door.  
  
"Why, hello officer," he said. "What do you need?"  
  
"I know who your bully is," Fillmore said.  
  
"Who was it?" Chase asked.  
  
"Nobody."  
  
Chase blinked several times. Then he asked, "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"You set up this whole thing to frame Bruce Storm," Fillmore explained. "You came in, crying and everything; you had us really going. You even skipped handing in assignments to fool us. Then, when you thought we were having too tough of a time getting going, you tried to imitate his handwriting and write yourself a threatening note." Chase Kristofer began to sweat.  
  
"There are just two problems with your story. The first is that you only missed assignments for a week, and you told us a month. And secondly, Bruce Storm only writes in pen; never in the pencil you wrote yourself the note in."  
  
"All right!" Chase exclaimed. "I admit it! I framed Bruce Storm! But you would too, given my circumstances!" Chase stepped out onto the porch.  
  
"Do you know how long and hard I worked to get that award for best creative story? Every day for two years, when I would come home from school, I would sit down and start writing, perfecting, and mastering my story!"  
  
"And your work paid off," said Fillmore. "You wrote a story that won the award."  
  
"It doesn't matter!" Chase yelled. "Who cares about a lousy award? All they give you is a piece of paper with your name on it, and a pat on the back! I wanted fans!" Chase sighed. "But even when I beat his story, Bruce still gets the upper hand in that department. The creative writing fan club wouldn't even analyze mine, because they all worship Bruce Storm.  
  
"It became apparent to me that the only way to get what I want was to get Bruce out of the picture. So, I devised a whole plan to get him detention. Eventually it would move to suspension, and ultimately expulsion from the school. Then, he would fade out of the public eye, and I would take his place as the worshiped author in X Middle School."  
  
"You can't force people to like you, Chase," Fillmore said.  
  
"Maybe so," said Chase. "But, if I've done my research correctly, you're on forced vacation. There's nothing you can do to stop me from trying."  
  
"You're right," said Fillmore. But then, he pulled the tape recorder from his backpack. "But with your confession on tape, I'm sure my friends will find stopping you on their own very easy."  
  
Chase dove for the tape recorder, ripping it from Fillmore's hands. Before Fillmore could even react, Chase had already begun running across his yard. "Stop!" Fillmore yelled.   
  
When Fillmore started chasing him, Chase had allready run across the street. Fillmore tried to pursue him, but a car came, stopping inches away from Fillmore.  
  
"Watch it, kid," the driver said. But Fillmore recovered himself quickly and ran after Chase again. Chase now had a sizable lead.  
  
"So long, officer!" Chase yelled. He began to laugh maniacally, throwing his head back. But, he didn't look where he was going, and ran directly into a stop sign. He fell back, completely unconscious from the blow. This made it easier for Fillmore to catch up to him.  
  
Fillmore pulled out his walkie-talkie. "This is Fillmore," he said into it. "Chase is out cold at the stop sign on Yarrow. Come and get him, Jake and Ingrid."

-

"FILLMORE!" Vallejo yelled. "OFFICE NOW!"  
  
"He must have found out you were on the case," Ingrid said.  
  
"Don't worry," Fillmore assured her. "I didn't do anything that could get me in trouble. He's got nothing on me."  
  
Fillmore walked triumphantly into Vallejo's office. Vallejo was sitting at his desk, his forehead resting on his hand. He rubbed his forehead several times before speaking.  
  
"Fillmore," he said sternly. "It has come to my attention that you were key in solving this case."  
  
"Yeah," said Fillmore. "So?"  
  
"So, why were you on this case, when you were supposed to be on forced vacation?"  
  
"I wasn't on the case, Vallejo," Fillmore said. "I was just doing a normal student's duty to my fellow students."  
  
"Look, you got the job done, and I'm happy for that," Vallejo said. "But Folsom's gonna throw you off the force if ever she hears about this."  
  
"Then don't tell her about it," Fillmore said.  
  
"Exactly," Vallejo said, to Fillmore's surprise. "If anybody, especially Folsom asks, I pulled you back on the force prior to any action. Is that clear?"  
  
"Crystal," Fillmore said. He started walking out of the office. "Thanks," he said, but Vallejo didn't respond.

-  
  
Chase sat in the desk he would remain in for two hours for detention. He rested his head upon it, tilting it this way and that, as if to say, "Why, why did I let myself get caught?"  
  
He had originally thought that he'd be the only one attending detention that day, but he was joined by the black haired girl from the creative writing fan club.  
  
"Hi," she said to Chase. "What're you in for?"  
  
"I was caught trying to frame Bruce Storm for bullying," Chase said. "You?"  
  
The girl shrugged. "Somebody copied my test in math and I got the blame. I'm Brooke Martin. What's your name?"  
  
"Chase Kristofer," Chase answered.  
  
"Really?" the girl exclaimed. "I'm a big fan! I loved your story, 'Bullies of the Night!' Pure genius!"  
  
"Yeah?" asked Chase. Brooke echoed, "Yeah."  
  
The room went silent for a few moments, but it wasn't an awkward silence. On both sides, it was a comfortable silence, both enjoying each other's presence.  
  
It was Brooke that broke the silence. "So, detention is two hours for me. You?"  
  
"Same," Chase said.  
  
"You wanna go get a hamburger or something after detention?"  
  
"Anything," Chase said, "for a fan."


End file.
